With Nicolás Maduro finally ousted, there’s a temptation to declare victory and move on. Job done, democracy restored, next crisis please. But this comfortable narrative ignores an uncomfortable truth: Venezuela cannot simply elect its way out of collapse. The country faces institutional death that no ballot box can remedy without substantial external support.
The scale of catastrophe is almost incomprehensible. An 80 percent economic contraction, worse than Britain’s Great Depression, worse than the Soviet Union’s dissolution. Seven million refugees, nearly a quarter of the population, with significant communities now in London, Manchester, and across Britain.
Oil production collapsed from three million to under 700,000 barrels daily because state oil company PDVSA lacks engineers competent to extract it. The judiciary is gutted, civil service destroyed, security forces compromised by narco-traffickers whose gangs now operate in British cities.
This isn’t a country needing new management. It’s a failed state requiring reconstruction. And that poses a question British Conservatives should take seriously: Do we still believe in supporting democracy abroad when it requires commitment beyond rhetoric?
Venezuela exemplifies what economists call the resource curse; in this case oil wealth that paradoxically destroys prosperity. When oil booms, currency appreciates, making other exports uncompetitive. Manufacturing withers, agriculture dies, and the economy restructures around a single commodity.
By 2014, oil represented 96 percent of Venezuelan exports. When prices crashed, there was no cushion. More fundamentally, oil revenues funded patronage rather than productive institutions. Hugo Chávez built his Bolivarian socialism on exactly this foundation, redistributing rents while destroying productive capacity. When oil prices fell, redistribution stopped, but destruction was permanent.
Norway avoided this trap by establishing a sovereign wealth fund before oil wealth corrupted institutions. The UAE diversified aggressively. Both had strong institutions first. Venezuela had neither, and twenty years of socialism destroyed what little existed. The question is whether external support can help rebuild what internal politics destroyed.
An International Reconstruction Compact offers a practical path. A coalition:the United States, Colombia, Brazil, and willing European partners including Britain, would provide security assistance, economic advisors, and transparent management of oil revenues through a sovereign wealth fund. Crucially, Venezuelans would retain formal sovereignty and daily governance, but major economic decisions would require international approval during a three-to-five year reconstruction period.
This combines the Marshall Plan’s investment approach with Plan Colombia’s partnership model. It learns from Iraq’s mistakes (don’t dissolve existing institutions) and Afghanistan’s failures (don’t attempt half-measures). International advisors embed in ministries without replacing Venezuelan officials. Security forces dismantle cartels while training Venezuelan police. A sovereign wealth fund prevents political raids on oil revenues while funding diversification.
British interests support engagement. Venezuelan refugee flows destabilize Colombia and Brazil, democracies Britain should support as counterweights to Chinese influence in Latin America. Venezuelan gangs including Tren de Aragua now operate in London. Failed states breed terrorism, narco-trafficking, and migration that eventually reaches our shores. And there’s a broader question: if democracies won’t help nations escape state failure, who will? China is already Venezuela’s largest creditor with over $60 billion lent to Maduro’s regime. Russia sent mercenaries to prop him up. Walking away cedes influence to actors hostile to Western interests.
This isn’t about imperial nostalgia or exporting British values at gunpoint. It’s about recognising that sometimes democracy requires external support to take root. Thatcher understood this in the Cold War, supporting democratic movements behind the Iron Curtain. Major and Blair grasped it in the Balkans, where British forces helped prevent genocide and build functioning states. Cameron recognised it in Libya, though execution failed due to inadequate follow-through, exactly the lesson Venezuela should teach us about commitment.
The objection that intervention equals imperialism conflates temporary support with permanent control. Marshall Plan reconstruction of Europe wasn’t imperialism; it was enlightened self-interest that created stable, prosperous democracies. Plan Colombia wasn’t occupation; it was a partnership that defeated narco-insurgency while respecting sovereignty. East Timor’s UN-administered transition created a functioning democracy. The question isn’t whether external support can work, but whether we retain the will and wisdom to provide it properly.
British Conservatives face a choice. We can declare ourselves “non-interventionist,” watch Venezuela collapse into permanent crisis while China and Russia expand influence, and pretend this represents principled foreign policy. Or we can recognise that supporting democracy sometimes requires more than speeches, that preventing state failure serves British interests, and that temporary external support can enable rather than undermine self-determination.
This isn’t about saving the world. It’s about recognizing that Britain has interests in a stable, democratic Latin America, that failed states export problems that eventually reach our shores, and that sometimes the most realistic policy requires short-term commitment to prevent long-term crises. Reagan and Thatcher grasped this. The question is whether contemporary Conservatives still do, or whether Afghanistan has so depleted our confidence that we’ll abandon practical conservatism for fashionable isolationism.
Venezuela offers the test. Seven million refugees, complete institutional collapse, and Chinese and Russian influence expanding into our hemisphere. The optimists are wrong that elections alone will work. The question is whether Conservatives have better answers than hope.
With Nicolás Maduro finally ousted, there’s a temptation to declare victory and move on. Job done, democracy restored, next crisis please. But this comfortable narrative ignores an uncomfortable truth: Venezuela cannot simply elect its way out of collapse. The country faces institutional death that no ballot box can remedy without substantial external support.
The scale of catastrophe is almost incomprehensible. An 80 percent economic contraction, worse than Britain’s Great Depression, worse than the Soviet Union’s dissolution. Seven million refugees, nearly a quarter of the population, with significant communities now in London, Manchester, and across Britain.
Oil production collapsed from three million to under 700,000 barrels daily because state oil company PDVSA lacks engineers competent to extract it. The judiciary is gutted, civil service destroyed, security forces compromised by narco-traffickers whose gangs now operate in British cities.
This isn’t a country needing new management. It’s a failed state requiring reconstruction. And that poses a question British Conservatives should take seriously: Do we still believe in supporting democracy abroad when it requires commitment beyond rhetoric?
Venezuela exemplifies what economists call the resource curse; in this case oil wealth that paradoxically destroys prosperity. When oil booms, currency appreciates, making other exports uncompetitive. Manufacturing withers, agriculture dies, and the economy restructures around a single commodity.
By 2014, oil represented 96 percent of Venezuelan exports. When prices crashed, there was no cushion. More fundamentally, oil revenues funded patronage rather than productive institutions. Hugo Chávez built his Bolivarian socialism on exactly this foundation, redistributing rents while destroying productive capacity. When oil prices fell, redistribution stopped, but destruction was permanent.
Norway avoided this trap by establishing a sovereign wealth fund before oil wealth corrupted institutions. The UAE diversified aggressively. Both had strong institutions first. Venezuela had neither, and twenty years of socialism destroyed what little existed. The question is whether external support can help rebuild what internal politics destroyed.
An International Reconstruction Compact offers a practical path. A coalition:the United States, Colombia, Brazil, and willing European partners including Britain, would provide security assistance, economic advisors, and transparent management of oil revenues through a sovereign wealth fund. Crucially, Venezuelans would retain formal sovereignty and daily governance, but major economic decisions would require international approval during a three-to-five year reconstruction period.
This combines the Marshall Plan’s investment approach with Plan Colombia’s partnership model. It learns from Iraq’s mistakes (don’t dissolve existing institutions) and Afghanistan’s failures (don’t attempt half-measures). International advisors embed in ministries without replacing Venezuelan officials. Security forces dismantle cartels while training Venezuelan police. A sovereign wealth fund prevents political raids on oil revenues while funding diversification.
British interests support engagement. Venezuelan refugee flows destabilize Colombia and Brazil, democracies Britain should support as counterweights to Chinese influence in Latin America. Venezuelan gangs including Tren de Aragua now operate in London. Failed states breed terrorism, narco-trafficking, and migration that eventually reaches our shores. And there’s a broader question: if democracies won’t help nations escape state failure, who will? China is already Venezuela’s largest creditor with over $60 billion lent to Maduro’s regime. Russia sent mercenaries to prop him up. Walking away cedes influence to actors hostile to Western interests.
This isn’t about imperial nostalgia or exporting British values at gunpoint. It’s about recognising that sometimes democracy requires external support to take root. Thatcher understood this in the Cold War, supporting democratic movements behind the Iron Curtain. Major and Blair grasped it in the Balkans, where British forces helped prevent genocide and build functioning states. Cameron recognised it in Libya, though execution failed due to inadequate follow-through, exactly the lesson Venezuela should teach us about commitment.
The objection that intervention equals imperialism conflates temporary support with permanent control. Marshall Plan reconstruction of Europe wasn’t imperialism; it was enlightened self-interest that created stable, prosperous democracies. Plan Colombia wasn’t occupation; it was a partnership that defeated narco-insurgency while respecting sovereignty. East Timor’s UN-administered transition created a functioning democracy. The question isn’t whether external support can work, but whether we retain the will and wisdom to provide it properly.
British Conservatives face a choice. We can declare ourselves “non-interventionist,” watch Venezuela collapse into permanent crisis while China and Russia expand influence, and pretend this represents principled foreign policy. Or we can recognise that supporting democracy sometimes requires more than speeches, that preventing state failure serves British interests, and that temporary external support can enable rather than undermine self-determination.
This isn’t about saving the world. It’s about recognizing that Britain has interests in a stable, democratic Latin America, that failed states export problems that eventually reach our shores, and that sometimes the most realistic policy requires short-term commitment to prevent long-term crises. Reagan and Thatcher grasped this. The question is whether contemporary Conservatives still do, or whether Afghanistan has so depleted our confidence that we’ll abandon practical conservatism for fashionable isolationism.
Venezuela offers the test. Seven million refugees, complete institutional collapse, and Chinese and Russian influence expanding into our hemisphere. The optimists are wrong that elections alone will work. The question is whether Conservatives have better answers than hope.